


Love and Snow

by RosieFreebatch



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Humor, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sickfic, Snow, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:55:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27763369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieFreebatch/pseuds/RosieFreebatch
Summary: A Christmas/winter themed sequel to Love and Rain. Like the last one, it will be a WIP with some stories unconnected and no set posting time. Enjoy and Happy Holidays!
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 16





	1. Baby It's Cold Outside...Obviously

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock tells John how the popular tune was a part of one of his early cases.
> 
> Baby It's Cold Outside was written in 1944 by Frank Loesser. It depicts a man trying to persuade his girlfriend to stay longer at his house as she attempts to leave, afraid of having her reputation ruined by family members and neighbors if they find out she stays the night with her lover. The song is meant to be satire about how women were shamed back then for enjoying sex outside of marriage, so they had to put up a front as not wanting to take things further when they actually wanted to. 
> 
> But as years passed, many listeners, including myself, interpreted the lyrics as the man trying to commit date rape. In fact, I call Baby It's Cold Outside the "Christmas Date Rape Song." So I can understand why so many feel uncomfortable hearing it. It's a song I personally don't care for. 
> 
> Several radio stations in the United States banned Baby It's Cold Outside in 2018, when the #MeToo movement picked up steam on social media due to the lyrics.
> 
> I thought it would be interesting having our boys talk about the song.

Tiny flurries of snowflakes were falling from the cold winter air but inside 221 B, the fireplace was warm and glowing as Sherlock and John sat cuddled up together under a blanket looking at the flames. They had just finished decorating the Christmas tree and were each enjoying a cup of hot apple cider that Mrs. Hudson had made. Rosie was sound asleep upstairs, having succumbed to slumber after helping her daddies decorate and watching the Charlie Brown Christmas special.

John had a Christmas song station streaming on his phone, playing a variety of music, everything from the classics of Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra, to today's popular artists. He had to laugh every time a modern Christmas song came on which made Sherlock's nose wrinkle up in distaste. Even John had to admit to himself some of the new versions weren't that great, especially when a female singer tried to put her own spin on it by oversinging notes and sprinkling in an "ooh yeah" every now and then.

Sherlock laid his curly head on John's shoulder. John smiled, set his mug down, and reached up to ruffle his detective's curls. Sherlock hummed appreciatively and moved in even closer. "You giant cat," John teased gently. Sherlock hummed again in response.

A new song started playing, "Baby It's Cold Outside," by Idina Menzel and Michael Buble. Sherlock wrapped an arm around his blogger. "I don't think I told you the story of one of my first cases I solved for Lestrade and the Yard, before I met you. This song played a huge role."

John was intrigued. "No you didn't. It sounds very interesting. How did you rate it?"

"Oh, it was a solid nine. It was December 2009, and Lestrade had called me to a crime scene in a very posh home on Harley Street. Four bodies were in the living room, two men and two women. It was obvious a Christmas party had taken place, the men were in tuxedos and the women in formal dresses. Four empty wine glasses and an empty wine bottle were sitting on top of the coffee table. The two women were lying on the couch on opposite ends, one man was under the Christmas tree, the other slumped in an armchair. There were no obvious signs of trauma, so I immediately suspected poison."

John nodded, taking Sherlock's words in. "The wine bottle?" he asked.

"Correct John, very good." The men had conspired before the party to drug their new girlfriends with GHB. But one of the women was a volunteer rape crisis counselor and suspected this would happen, so she and the other woman decided to get even by putting antifreeze in the bottle. It was only supposed to be a small amount to get everyone sick. Unfortunately, too much was added by mistake and they all died after drinking it." 

"Wow," John breathed. "Hate to say it, but it sounds like they all deserved each other. But what does the song have to do with it?"

"You know the one lyric, "say, what's in this drink?" Well the men were going to use the excuse that the girls had gotten so drunk, they wouldn't be able to consent. Combine that with the big snowstorm the night of the party, they felt it would keep them from being exposed for their crime. They could say the weather was so bad nobody could have left," Sherlock explained.

John shook his head in disbelief. "Totally bizarre and twisted, but that's how some humans' minds work."

"It also helped that the song was stuck on autoplay on one of the cell phones at the scene, which makes it even more chilling," Sherlock added.

"Jesus, it's like something out of a horror movie," John murmured. "But at least you were able to figure it out, otherwise there would have been so much speculation and rumors about what really happened." He let out a low, sarcastic chuckle. "I never liked that song anyway. Too date rapey for my liking."

"But John, it's not a song about date rape. It was written in 1944 by composer Frank Loesser. He and his wife would act out the song at parties, and it's actually about the woman wanting to stay with her lover, but knows if she does, people will talk about her and brandish her a harlot, so she tries and makes excuses for why she should leave," Sherlock said.

"Hmm," John answered, mentally going through the lyrics. "Well, that does make sense. I guess because times have changed and people are more sensitive, they interpret the song as not that innocent. I still don't like it though." 

"I actually don't like the song either, but it is what it is," Sherlock replied matter-of-fact.

John gave Sherlock a squeeze. "True. Now let's forget about that silly song. How about I heat us up another batch of this cider and do some more cuddling and snuggling because baby, it really is cold outside."

Sherlock shook his head and laughed, pressing a soft kiss to John's hair. "Obviously."


	2. Comfort and Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is slightly injured after a robbery attempt just before Christmas. Sherlock is concerned, but everything is okay.

For most of his life, except when he was an Army captain and military doctor, many underestimated John Watson. Short. Ordinary. Quiet composure. Easily overlooked.

He wasn't going to be overlooked this night though. It was December 21st, the first day of winter, the shortest day of the year. John was walking home after picking up a meal from Angelo's and was only a few blocks from 221B when he was ambushed by two men in their twenties, demanding his wallet.

John wasn't going to give up without a fight. Years of chasing and wrestling with criminals gave him a leg up on defending himself, so he set his food down and immediately started on the two young men, with fists flying. He got in some good punches before one of the men, aggravated that someone old enough to be his dad was kicking his butt, kicked him hard in the shin, which startled John and put him on the ground. The two attackers started kicking him, but John gave it right back, also kicking his attackers. After a few minutes which seemed like hours, John was able to get up, even though his chest was sore, and roughly grab one of the men, yanking his right shoulder around to his back. John heard a pop and the man screamed. "You arsehole! You broke my arm!"

"Nope," John huffed, breathing heavily, holding his chest. "I only dislocated it. I'm a doctor, I could have broken if I wanted to. You're lucky you caught me in a good mood. Now how about you and your wanker of a friend get the hell out of here before I do even more damage."

John pushed the injured robber to the ground, who looked up in him with agony. The other would-be robber looked at John with a mixture of surprise and fright. "Come on Jamie, let's go. I don't want any broken bones for Christmas." He helped his friend get to his feet and the two ran off into the night.

John couldn't help but laugh at the two idiots even though it made his chest hurt awfully. But he would definitely be reporting it to the police. He didn't want those two going after anyone else, and especially during the holidays. He picked up his takeaway and decided to swing by St. Bart's to get himself checked out. He knew Mike was working a shift at A&E, covering for co-worker who came down with the flu, so he didn't mind having Mike examine him. And he'd have to tell his husband, who was currently at the morgue, what had happened.

*****

"You're lucky John. X-rays show no fractured ribs, just bruising. And your left wrist is sprained, but no other broken bones anywhere else. I'm going to put your arm in a sling for quicker healing. I'll also prescribe some strong painkillers, and a few days rest. Good thing you're not working over Christmas," Mike told his friend before leaving.

John smiled at the good news. "Thanks Mike. 

Just then Sherlock rushed into the small room. "John!" he cried. I got your text and came as soon as I could. Are you okay?" He cupped John's face in his hands and gave him a soft kiss.

John kissed him back and nodded. "Yes. No fractured ribs, no other broken bones, and a sprain in my left wrist. Mike's getting me some pain pills, and I'll have to wear a sling, but I'm just fine. 

"What about your attackers? Did you report it to the police?" Sherlock asked firmly.

"I called them right after I got signed in to A&E. I actually talked to Greg, and gave him a description of the morons."

Sherlock blew out a sigh of relief. "That makes me feel a lot better."

"Shame our dinner is a waste though. Angelo made us fresh chicken marsala and breadsticks, and I had picked it up right before I was jumped," John murmured.

Sherlock's eyes widened. "John! You were attacked, and you're concerned about food?"

"Well, Angelo's was packed, and he took the time to make a fresh meal."

Sherlock shook his head. "My John. You never fail to surprise me. I'm still worried though. We probably should cancel our trip to my parents' house Christmas Day and just spend it quietly at the flat. A long car trip combined with a long day with my parents and Mycroft won't be comfortable for you."

"I'll be high on painkillers, I probably won't even remember anything,'' John joked.

"I'm serious. I think they'll understand. We can reschedule our trip for after the New Year."

John grinned madly. "You just want to avoid seeing your parents and Mycroft."

"Yes," Sherlock answered seriously.

John laughed and kissed his detective again. "Okay you win. We'll have a quiet Christmas at home. I'm sure Mrs. Hudson will have enough food leftover from Christmas Eve we can munch on."

"John! You and food again!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Hey, I know my priorities, and you Mister Watson-Holmes, can still use feeding up. Especially since I know Molly provided you with enough body parts to experiment on for the next week, and when you get caught up studying livers and ears, you ignore more important things like breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

Sherlock pouted. "I thought I was the one that made the deductions."

"I can do some of my own, especially when it comes to you love. Being married to you these last few years, I've come to be familiar with your habits. It's all fine and I love you." John tried to placate him with another kiss, and he knew it worked when he saw Sherlock's mouth quirk up to a small grin.

Mike returned with a sling and a pack of pills. "Hey Sherlock, glad to see you and Happy Christmas. John, I'm going to wrap your arm. As for the pills, I've prescribed Tramadol. Take every six hours as needed and avoid strenuous activity for the next few days."

"Thanks again Mike. I'll be doing nothing but resting at home and Sherlock will take good care of me," John said, smiling at his husband.

"I definitely will. I'm glad you were working tonight to see John," Sherlock told his friend. "And Happy Christmas to you too."

"Thanks Sherlock. Mike put the sling on John and handed him the pills. "You're all good to go. Be careful going home, it's started snowing."

"Really?" John asked. "On the news this morning they said the storm was going to miss London."

"I got a weather alert on my phone that said up to three inches is expected, and the snow is supposed to end late tomorrow afternoon," Mike explained. 

"Why do we even have meteorologists in the first place," Sherlock sniffed. "Most of the time they get their predictions wrong."

"Well, wrong or not, it'll be nice to have some snow close to Christmas," John said. "Which means an even better excuse for not going anywhere but home," John added, with a wink.

"I can't fault that logic at all my handsome doctor," Sherlock mused. "Now let us go to our home, where I will provide lots of comfort and joy to you."


	3. I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys' honeymoon is extended thanks to a power outage and a blizzard.

Christmas had not been kind to Sherlock and John over the years, while as children and as flatmates. So when the two finally declared their love and decided to make their love official, they wanted a clean slate for the holiday and decided to marry on Christmas Eve. They planned a simple exchange of vows at the registrar's office but upon hearing the news, Angelo offered to close his restaurant and host the wedding. It was a lovely gathering, with the couple wearing custom made black suits and crisp white shirts, with Sherlock sporting a purple tie and John with a sapphire blue tie. A small guest list that included Greg, Mycroft, Molly, Mike, Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock's parents, and Harry and Clara, enjoyed a delicious meal of seafood fettuccine, garlic bread, salad, and a Torta Caprese wedding cake that was to die for.

After the festivities, the newlyweds headed to Sussex to honeymoon at the Holmes seaside cottage, driving in a car donated by Mycroft. The couple celebrated an intimate Christmas and New Year's Eve with champagne, strawberries, chocolate, honey, and lots of sex.

*******  
New Year's Day, the boys woke up to snow flurries. They paid it no mind and prepared to pack up and head back to London. As much as they loved their Sussex holiday, they were ready to head back to London. They were about two hours away from the city when the snow started to pick up in intensity. John, who was in the passenger seat, looked at his new husband. "Do you think we should try and find a hotel and stay the night until this passes?"

"Might be a good idea. It's really coming down and we don't need to get in an accident and risk damaging this car. Mycroft would never let us live it down," Sherlock answered.

Fifteen minutes later they found a bread and breakfast that luckily had a vacancy. The owners, a kind elderly couple that also resided there, gave them the bridal suite. It was a large room on the third floor, with an enormous king sized canopy bed, sunken whirlpool tub, shower, TV, and a fireplace. The two unpacked and John read the menu. There was a dining room downstairs that offered meals, and they also provided room service.

John's cell phone rang, he recognized the ringtone for Mrs. Hudson. "Hey Mrs. H. Happy New Year."

"Hello John dear. Are you and Sherlock okay? A blizzard is headed for London."

"We're fine. We're two hours out and the snow is coming down pretty good so Sherlock and I found a bread and breakfast to stay at until the storm stops."

"Oh that's a relief. Also, I'm heading to my sister's. The power is out in the building so there's no heat. I called an electrician but due to the storm I don't know if he'll be able to come soon enough to fix the wiring, so I let him know I wouldn't be here. Mrs. Turner and her boys have also left."

"Oh no, that's awful. Thanks for letting us know Martha. I guess Sherlock and I will be here for a while then."

"Think of it as an extended honeymoon John," Mrs. Hudson said happily. Being snowed in can be romantic."

"Don't worry, Sherlock and I will definitely take advantage. Be safe Martha."

"You too John. See you soon and Happy New Year!"

John put his phone back in his pocket and turned to see Sherlock, who already had the fireplace lit. "So I guess you know we're in for a pretty good snowstorm," he said, coming over to his husband, wrapping his arms around him.

"Yup. Is Hudders okay?" Sherlock asked.

"She's fine, but the power is out in our building so there's no heat. She and Mrs. Turner and the other guys are seeking shelter somewhere else."

"So that means we'll be here for a little longer," Sherlock replied, not sad at all at the circumstances.

"Yup. You don't sound disappointed at all," John remarked, smiling.

Sherlock turned to face his husband, smirking. "Nope. Are you?"

John shook his head. "Not at all. We've got a nice suite with a fireplace and we're definitely going to make use of that tub."

Sherlock bent down to kiss his blogger. "And I'm actually feeling a bit peckish. Want to order room service?"

"Oh yes. Let me get the menu and we can pick something out."

The two perused the menu and each decided on the chicken noodle soup and BLT special. John placed the order for them, then walked over to the large window. He pulled open the curtains to see a beautiful winter scene. Snow was falling, and the trees were flocked with sparkling white flakes. There was a small pond nestled in with the forest, and he saw a deer standing by the water. The view would make for a perfect Christmas card.

Sherlock joined John, gently placing his hands on John's shoulders, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. "It's beautiful," he said, looking out at the snow.

"It sure is. Very serene. Maybe once the snow stops we can explore. The owner said they have skiis to loan out," John suggested.

"That sounds like fun, it would be something different for us," Sherlock said, hugging John from behind.

"Happy New Year Sherlock, I love you," John told his husband, leaning back to look into the detective's blue-green eyes.

"Happy New Year John. I love you too." Sherlock smiled and kissed John's forehead.

They stood there watching the snow, feeling the warmth from the fireplace, along with their deep love for each other.


	4. The Perfect Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is a store clerk who helps Sherlock find a Christmas gift. 
> 
> A first meeting Unilock story.

John watched the snow come down as he stood behind the store counter, folding shirts. He had taken a sales clerk job at Hackett and London on Jermyn Street so he could have spending money for Christmas, and it gave him something to do on the weekends when he didn't have classes that didn't involve boozing it up at the pubs. Both his dad and his sister were in outpatient rehab for alcoholism and they were doing great. He wanted to set an example and not be a hypocrite by avoiding the drink. For the first time in many years, Christmas at the Watson house was going to be a good one and he was looking forward to going home.

It was two hours to closing time and there weren't many shoppers out in the streets, most of them were done for the day and were probably already safe and dry indoors. It had been a busy Saturday and John had sold quite a few items for the upscale customers. He was surprised he'd even gotten the job in the first place. The shops on Jermyn Street catered to wealthy Londoners with a taste for expensive, custom, bespoke clothing along with fine art and jewelry. He wasn't posh by any means, and he thought only the best looking and the best tailored would be hired to sell shirts that cost more than two weeks' worth of grocery shopping at Tesco. But he was surprised when the store manager hired him. The manager said he liked John's appearance, he looked trustworthy, and he was impressed with him winning a rugby scholarship to St. Bart's so he could pursue his dream of being a doctor. And John was also a master at gift wrapping, with many customers expressing their delight and satisfaction at John's handiwork.

John placed his neatly folded shirts on a display rack and was ready to begin his next task, wrapping up a large Christmas order for the wife of a prominent heart surgeon. She had taken a liking to John and ended up buying one thousand pounds of shirts, socks, and ties for her husband and two sons. She would be picking up the packages tomorrow afternoon during John's shift. Before John could get the order, a customer entered the shop, shaking off the snow away from his dark curls. He was tall, with a thin build, but John could make out some muscle underneath his super-expensive Belstaff coat. He had the most unusual beautiful face John had ever seen, with full pink lips and eyes that seemed to shift to blue, green, and gray underneath the soft store lights. John was instantly attracted to the young man, but he was sure someone with those model looks was already taken.

In the last few months, John had become more open about his bisexuality. He'd dated a young woman named Mary his first year of uni, but amicably broke up after she decided to transfer to another school. After Mary, he casually dated a few girls and boys, but it was nothing serious. John admitted to himself he was pretty lonely and was ready for another long-term relationship, but he didn't want to date just anyone.

He composed himself and moved closer to the handsome customer. "Good evening. How may I help you?" he greeted.

"I'm looking for a gift for my boyfriend," the man answered in a deep, silky baritone.

John nearly doubled over at hearing that extremely smooth and sexy voice (and tried not to frown at the mention of a boyfriend) but he held it together. "Well you've come to the right place. Are you looking for a shirt, socks, tie, or all of the above?"

"A shirt. He prefers a check pattern."

John nodded. "We have several check shirts to choose from. Does he have a specific color story he likes?"

"Blue and white. I find that very boring, but that's what he asked for," the man replied, somewhat snarky.

_Wow, blunt and to the point_ , John thought. "We have a blue and white check long sleeve button down that I think he will like. May I show it to you?"

The man just nodded. John walked over to a rack where the shirts were neatly folded. One was shown on a mannequin on the top table. "These are on sale until after the New Year and they've been popular with university students. Are you and your boyfriend attending school?" 

"Victor and I are at Oxford. I'm majoring in chemistry and he's majoring in partying," the man answered matter-of-fact.

_Sounds like trouble in paradise. I wouldn't be purchasing an expensive shirt for him for Christmas, but not my business_ , John silently mused. He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he had when he was embarrassed or a bit uncomfortable. "Well..." he began before the man cut him off.

"I'll take the shirt, size medium."

John nodded again. He didn't want to lose the sale. "Certainly. Would you like it gift wrapped?"

"That will suffice."

John nodded yet again and took a shirt from the display. "It'll only be a few minutes. What would you like the gift tag to say?"

"To Victor from Sherlock. Hope this makes up for the one I burned during an experiment."

"Sherlock? Now that's a cool name," John said. 

"The man frowned. "You're just taking the piss."

"I assure you I'm not." John went behind the counter and pulled out a gift box, tissue paper, and a tag.

Sherlock followed him, watching him closely. "You actually enjoy this job."

John looked up, a little surprised. "Why yes, I do. I know working in retail, at especially this time of year can be draining, but I like it. I'm making money and it keeps me out of trouble on the weekends."

Sherlock continued to gaze at him intensely. "Alcoholism runs in your family."

Now John was extremely surprised. "I don't know how you knew that but yes. My sister and my dad are recovering alcoholics. They've been sober for three months now and doing wonderfully. I don't want to end up like them and I want to set an example that being dry is better so I quit going to the pubs on the weekends. My rugby mates give me hell for it, but I don't care. Working here gives me something to do and it's a paycheck."

"Hmm, I figured you played rugby or some other sport. You definitely have an athletic build," Sherlock told him, looking at him appreciatively.

John grinned cheekily. "Why Sherlock, are you flirting with me? You do have a boyfriend after all, one that is going to get a very expensive and lovely shirt as a gift."

"No, not flirting. Just stating the obvious."

If John was disappointed, he didn't show it. He put his head down and concentrated on wrapping Sherlock's purchase. "Sorry about that." In a few minutes, the shirt was wrapped. John handed it to Sherlock and put on his business face. "Here you go. Will it be cash or charge?"

Sherlock noticed the change in John. He didn't mean to be so brusque but he sensed the other boy was attracted to him and he had to put a stop to it. "Charge." He took out a credit card.

John ran it through and handed Sherlock the receipt to sign. He placed the box in a bag and gave it to Sherlock. "Here you go. Thank you and have a happy Christmas."

Sherlock took the bag. "You as well." He left the store with no other words. John watched him go out into the snowy night and sighed. "Boy did I blow it. No more flirting with customers for me."

******

_December 27_

John returned to work after spending a wonderful Christmas with his parents and sister. Harry had brought her new girlfriend Clara to meet the family. John really liked her. She was a quiet brunette with a good sense of humor. His mom had asked him if he'd found someone special yet and John said no, he was concentrating on school and work and one day he'd find somebody. Instantly he thought of the handsome curly-haired customer but just as quickly shed the image out of his mind. He had a boyfriend, and John's attempt at friendliness had backfired. 

John entered the shop at eleven, his start time. He would be working eleven to four, and then heading back to St. Bart's to resume his studies. The manager was there, folding shirts. He smiled when he saw John. "Good morning. How was your Christmas?"

"Great. Everyone's doing well, but I'm glad to get back to a routine. Was it busy yesterday?"

"Very. And there was a most persistent customer that only wanted you," the manager replied.

John's heart and stomach lurched like they were taking a drop on a roller coaster. Sherlock. There couldn't be anyone else.

"He wanted to return a shirt. Myself and the other clerks were happy to help him but he asked specifically for you, he described you as the handsome blond that plays rugby and actually likes working here, and only wanted you. A little off-putting, but apparently you made an impression on him. I told him you were off, but returning to work today so I'm sure he'll be here."

John tried very hard not to fall to the floor. So he actually did like me. _And returning the shirt---no, he just needs to exchange it that's all. Don't assume, that only makes an ass out of you and me, he told himself_ , remembering his dad's little saying. 

John swallowed and regained his composure. "Thank you, I'll make sure to look out for him."

Thirty minutes later, Sherlock walked in with the bag. He immediately walked up to the counter. "Hello," he greeted John.

"Hello. I understand you were in here yesterday looking for me?" John replied, trying to stay casual. "The manager said you wanted to return the shirt. Was it the wrong size?"

"No, it was the correct size."

John was puzzled. "I don't understand then---"

"Victor surprised me with a 'gift' of his own---me walking in on him snogging one of the waiters at my family's Christmas Eve party. He claimed he was drunk and it was a spur of the moment mistake, but I told him to get out and that I never wanted to see him again. He had the gall to ask me if he could keep any gifts I got him."

John let out a low whistle. "Wow, I'm so sorry Sherlock."

Sherlock shook his head. "Don't be. I purchased the shirt with his credit card. He never knew I took it."

John started to laugh, and soon Sherlock was joining him. After the two calmed down, John took the bag from Sherlock. "Well, should I do a store credit instead? This way you can use it for something you'd like?" He winked at Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled deviously. "Absolutely. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Oh God yes." John wasn't even trying to hide his attraction now. "We have a plain button down shirt in purple I think would you look amazing on you. Let me get it for you."

Sherlock watched amused as John got the garment and held it out in front of him. "What do you think?"

"I'll take it. But it's not purple, its aubergine."

"Whatever it is, you'll be hot wearing it."

Sherlock smirked at John. "Are you flirting with me---"

"John. John Watson. And yes, I am, if that's okay."

Sherlock smiled. "It's more than okay. After I left the store I couldn't get you out of my head. I felt guilty, but after catching Victor, the guilt was gone."

"I couldn't stop thinking about you either. You're one of the most gorgeous guys I've ever met," John said.

Sherlock's cheeks turned pink. John thought he looked even gorgeous with color on his face. "Sherlock, would you like to go to dinner after I get off work? My shift ends at four."

Sherlock nodded fervently. "I'd love to. Ever heard of Angelo's?"

"Yes, but I haven't been. Is it good?"

"Not only is it good, the owner gives me meals for free. I helped him get out of a murder charge by proving he was robbing a house at the time the killing occured."

John's eyes went wide. "No way! You'll have to tell me all about it over dinner."

Another customer entered the store. John looked at them. "I'll be with you in just a moment. He went to the counter to do Sherlock's exchange. "Wear this shirt tonight okay?" he whispered.

"Anything for you John," Sherlock whispered back, with a wink.

John grinned like a fool the rest of the day. He'd found the perfect gift, and it didn't come wrapped in shiny paper, but in a black Belstaff coat. 


	5. Snowbound and Bedbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is laid up due to a bad flare up of arthritis, but with a big snow storm on the way it's not like he could go anywhere, and he's fine with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing in my real life pain for this chapter as I'm currently dealing with an arthritis flare up in my left ankle that's leaving me hobbling around and using a cane. It is getting better though, and there is a big snowstorm headed my way on Wednesday!

When a dull pain in his left ankle began four days ago, John figured it was due to the approaching snowstorm and that he'd strained it last week while chasing a murder suspect. He put ice on it and took paracetamol and figured it would go away.

He never suspected the ankle would swell up, turn red and become inflamed. He wasn't able to really bear weight on it, and he was concerned that it was cellulitis, so he had Mike come over to the flat to look at it. His friend listened to John's symptoms and asked if there was anything he could think of that might have aggravated the joint, and had he experienced any recent medical problems. John mentioned the suspect chase, and that almost six weeks ago, he'd come down with salmonella poisoning from an undercooked beef dinner he'd gotten from the new Chinese restaurant down the street.

"Aha," Mike said. "I think that's it. This sounds like a case of reactive arthritis."

John knew about the rare ailment. It was an affliction that can occur after exposure to salmonella, various STD's, and infection. It could attack different parts of the body, but knees and ankles were the most common. He'd treated a case of it at the clinic several years back.

Mike prescribed him indomethacin and bedrest, and told him he would be right as rain in a week. John was glad it wasn't anything more serious, and that the wretched Chinese restaurant had been shut down for various health violations.

*****

John was in bed writing a blog entry about the latest case he and Sherlock solved when his husband entered the bedroom. "How are you feeling John?" he asked, placing a mug of hot tea beside him.

John looked up and smiled. "Hey love. It's still sore but the swelling has gone down some. Thanks for the tea, I was thirsty."

Sherlock joined John and placed his head on his blogger's shoulder. "You're welcome. Oh, and I placed an order for takeaway from Angelo's. They should be delivering it within the hour."

John turned to press a kiss to Sherlock's curls. "Wonderful."

"I ordered enough so we'd have leftovers for tomorrow. It's beginning to snow and I hear they're calling for quite a bit."

"Yeah, I checked the weather on the laptop. Good thing I have no excuse to go out, and I hope you don't either."

Sherlock chuckled. "I texted Lestrade and told him what happened to you and that we wouldn't be available for a while."

John finished his write-up. "Go ahead and take a look, I know you'll want to provide your constructive criticism." He grinned and handed Sherlock the laptop.

Sherlock read the title and scrunched up his face, which John always found adorable. 'The Man with the Twisted Hip?' Really John, that is even awful by your standards."

"My standards are just fine. You're the one with the impossible taste. And the murderer did have a twisted hip in a way, with that funny walk," John playfully retorted. He burrowed down under the comforter. "Now leave me be, I want to get in a small kip before the food comes."

"Oh no my conductor of light, you're not taking this nap alone." Sherlock placed an arm around John's waist and cuddled close. John could only laugh, Sherlock loved to cuddle. And John loved Sherlock's cuddles.

Thirty minutes later, Mrs. Hudson's "yoo-hoo!" woke up the boys. Sherlock sat up, rubbed his eyes, and got out of bed. "Damn, we slept through the delivery. Hold on Hudders I'm coming!"

John giggled as his spouse dashed out the bedroom door. Five minutes Sherlock appeared with a tray. "Mrs. Hudson paid the delivery boy and I gave her some breadsticks to placate her." But here we are, Angelo's famous lasagna and breadsticks. Would you like your tea refreshed?"

"No, but do we still have that sparkling cider in the fridge that Harry gave us?"

Sherlock nodded. "We do, I'll go get it. I'd like some of it myself."

"Thanks love." John took his fork and knife and prepared to dig in, his ankle pain forgotten. Any other time, he'd be angry and frustrated at being bedbound without being able to fend for himself, but he was quite enjoying being lazy and being able to spend time with Sherlock. He looked out the window and saw the flakes coming down and smiled, waiting for his detective to return so they could enjoy the rest of this snowy afternoon together. 


	6. The Twelve Yucks of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a gross, but special, surprise for Sherlock.

Light snow fell on London as John was sitting at the kitchen table, assembling Sherlock's Christmas surprise. He and his spouse had bought an advent calendar for Rosie which contained chocolates and small toys. Each day in December, they would allow the two year-old to open a door and she would be delighted at finding candy, or a tiny teddy, a doll, a Christmas story, etc. 

John decided to make Sherlock his own advent calendar, but it would be twelve days, and he would allow the detective to open all his gifts at once, knowing he had no patience. Rosie was more self-restrained, he silently joked. 

Christmas music was playing from the small radio on top of the fridge. "Do they know it's Christmastime at all..." John quietly sang as he finished the surprise and smiled, taking a look at his handiwork. He was proud of the result and that he finished it before Sherlock was due home from the morgue in a few hours. Little Rosie was at Harry and Clara's for the weekend, spending some quality time with her aunties.

He just hoped Sherlock would like his early Christmas treat.

*****

It was near dark and the snow had turned to sleet. John had the fireplace going, and was putting the kettle on when he got a text from his other half. _Picking up fish and chips for dinner, should be home in about ten minutes._ John smiled and texted back. _Sounds great. Be careful out there, see you soon, love you._

John wasn't expecting a text back, so when Sherlock's reply of _I love you too, and I'll be fine, the streets are just wet, not frozen over yet_ appeared on his screen, he hummed happily in relief.

*****

John was sitting in his chair sipping his tea, wearing a comfy pair of black sweatpants and a St. Bart's sweatshirt when Sherlock arrived, carrying a bag of food. "I'm home John!" he called.

John got up to meet his husband, greeting him with a kiss. "We're going to eat in the living room tonight, the kitchen table is occupied," he said with a cheeky grin.

Sherlock raised one eyebrow. "What have you done John?"

John chuckled coyly. "You'll see soon. Just stay out of the kitchen. You take out the food, and I'll get us the drinks."

Sherlock was intrigued, but obeyed his blogger. He took off his Belstaff and his scarf and hung it up on the coat rack. He stepped out of his shoes, and finally feeling more comfortable, headed to the coffee table and took the food out of the bag.

John returned with a bottle of chilled sparkling apple cider and two flute glasses. Harry had sent John some bottles of it along with a basket of smoked sausages, cheeses, and chocolates as her Christmas present. She'd been sober for three years and John couldn't have been more prouder of his older sister.

John sat on the sofa next to his husband and poured them each a glass of cider. "Cheers," John toasted. "To an angst-free holiday, and to us."

Sherlock clinked glasses with his blogger. "Definitely to us."

They each took a long sip and then dug into their meal, with Sherlock eating faster because he was eager to see what John had in store for him on the kitchen table. John noticed Sherlock attacking his food and held back a laugh, knowing he couldn't wait to see his surprise.

*****

Sherlock gazed intently at the 12 wrapped boxes of assorted sizes, no doubt trying to deduce what was inside each of them. John just watched his facial expressions and grinned like a fool. "Go ahead my genius. They're all yours to open."

Sherlock looked up at him, eyes wide and gleaming. "You mean you're not going to make me open one each day?"

John shook his head. "Nope," popping the P. "You don't have the patience, and besides it's more fun this way." He moved closer to kiss him on the cheek.

Sherlock was beaming. "I love you John Watson-Holmes." He sat down and picked up the box labeled "1" and began to open it. Inside was a petri dish containing bacteria. He looked up at John with a wide smile on his face. "This is amazing. I gather the rest of the boxes contain similar items?"

John nodded. "I call it the Twelve Yucks of Christmas. Each box has something very gross and right up your alley for you to examine or experiment on. Happy Christmas my ridiculous and beautiful man." He leaned down and gently kissed Sherlock's curls.

"Happy Christmas my conductor of light. This is the best gift anyone could ever give me," Sherlock happily replied.

For the next thirty minutes, the two shared laughs and kisses as one by one, the boxes were opened. When it was all done, Sherlock had:

  * A petri dish with bacteria
  * Samples of mold
  * Two big toes covered with a mysterious fungus
  * Three test tubes each filled with a disgusting looking mystery substance
  * Part of a brain
  * Autopsy photos from a cold case murder
  * Fecal matter
  * A liver
  * Ash samples
  * Some leftover food from the dumpster behind Angelo's
  * Expired medicine that John got from the clinic that was going to be disposed of
  * Some water from the Thames



*****

Sherlock spent the rest of the evening examining the body parts over in his lab at 221C, while the rest of the boxes were carefully contained in the lab fridge. John, extremely glad Sherlock loved his gifts, was curled up on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate, listening to Christmas carols, and reading his new Doctor Who novel, At Childhood's End, an early Christmas gift from Sherlock. The ice that had earlier glazed the streets of London turned back into a softly falling snow, making this a picture-perfect December night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At Childhood's End is a real novel, written by Sophie Aldred, who played Ace. It tells the story of Ace meeting the Thirteenth Doctor. Something that really needs to happen on screen!!!!
> 
> And don't worry - John assembled all these gifts using gloves and did a good handwashing when he was done!


	7. On Frozen Pond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have an ice skating date.  
> Sequel to Chapter Four's The Perfect Gift, so John and Sherlock are both university students.

The last couple days of December had been some of the best in Sherlock's twenty years. He'd dumped his cheating boyfriend on Christmas Eve and found a wonderful new boyfriend in John three days later. When Sherlock returned the shirt he'd bought Victor, John had exchanged it for a lovely aubergine one just for him. And Sherlock had worn it on their first date to Angelo's later that afternoon.

They'd had a wonderful dinner and Sherlock regaled John with stories of his childhood, his antics at Oxford, and how he proved Angelo did not commit murder, because the chef was robbing a house far away from London. John had laughed until he cried, and at the same time, was amazed by this beautiful, brilliant man.

They shared their first kiss in Regent's Park after dinner, while tiny snowflakes swirled around them, and planned a skate date a few days later. Both boys returned home, extremely elated and eagerly looking forward to their next meetup.

*****

Sherlock picked up John from his flat. The taller boy couldn't help but cast an appreciative glance at John, clad in a maroon St. Bart's hoodie, dark jeans, and white trainers, his blond hair under a black beanie. Tiny strands of golden locks stuck out under the wool, and Sherlock thought he looked gorgeous. At the same time, John admired Sherlock's lean frame in a black wool peacoat, blue cashmere scarf, and black jeans. Sherlock wore a dark purple beanie that matched the shirt John suggested he get at the store. John had dubbed it "the purple shirt of sex," to Sherlock's amusement. 

John greeted his man with a kiss and got in the car. "Your curls look lovely under the hat."

Sherlock grinned. "You look great too. Ready for some skating?"

John nodded. "Sure am. I haven't been ice skating since I was a kid. I hope I haven't lost what little skills I gained."

"You'll be fine, and I'm there to catch you if you fall."

John laughed. "That'll be the the best part, falling into your arms."

Sherlock turned his head and blushed. He wasn't used to such compliments, even when he and Victor were dating. The handsome redhead always had an air of superiority about him, even more than Sherlock did. That's why at first Sherlock thought he and Victor would be a great couple, they were so similar, but it turned out Sherlock really wanted more of a romantic partner. Now he had it in John. Even after of only two and half days of being together, he knew John was special.

The drive to the pond was a peaceful one, with the boys exchanging pleasant talk and enjoying the beautiful winter scenery.

*****

John laced up his skates and made his way to the pond, which was nestled among snow-flocked pine trees in the London countryside. The sky was a brilliant powder blue, with thick white clouds lazily floating in the air. He and Sherlock were the only ones there. There was an indoor ice rink back in the city which drew a lot of people, but John preferred skating in the crisp, chilly open air, it was more freeing. 

He carried a small CD player and set it down on the edge of the pond. Sherlock, who was already out on the ice, looked at his boyfriend in amusement. 

"I thought I'd bring some music for us to skate to. It's a CD of waltzes that belongs to my mum. Is that okay?" John asked, looking at Sherlock for approval.

Sherlock's mouth quirked up into a grin. "Perfect."

John smiled, relieved, and pressed play on the machine. The Skater's Waltz started up and John carefully joined Sherlock, who held out his hand. John took it, and the two began to slowly skate on the pond. 

The two made some circles while holding hands, exchanging happy smiles with each other. Eventually Sherlock broke away to do some solo skating. John watched him elegantly move around, thinking how beautiful and graceful he was, like a ballet dancer. He wondered if Sherlock ever took dancing lessons.

"Did you take lessons?" John asked him.

Sherlock came to a stop. "Hmm?"

"Lessons. Ballet lessons. You move with such grace and ease," John praised.

Sherlock blushed and looked down at the frozen water, then gazed up at John sheepishly. "Yes. Mummy made Mycroft and I take them. She thought it would be a good way for us to socialize with other children," he replied, putting socialize in air quotes.

"I gather the socializing part didn't go to well," John theorized.

"Let's just say quite a few people don't think highly of boys in ballet slippers."

John skated over to Sherlock, cupping his face and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Well I do. You're beautiful when you skate. You're beautiful when you walk."

"No one has called me beautiful, or much of anything, as much as you do," Sherlock whispered. 

"Guess I'll have to make up for all those lost compliments," John whispered back, kissing him softly on the lips.

Sherlock returned the kiss, holding John tightly, in awe of this wonderful new relationship. "How about we do some more skating together. This turning out to be one of the best days I've had."

"I second that," John murmured.

And after two more hours of skating on their picture-perfect pond in their picture-perfect forest, the boys, with winter-reddened cheeks and warmed up hearts, left to spend the rest of the day together in John's flat, snuggled together while watching the snow fall as they waited for some tasty takeaway from Angelo's. 


	8. Flu Year's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flu has struck the Holmes-Watson household just in time for the last day of the year.
> 
> I think all of us are ready to say goodbye to 2020. While it wasn't that awful for me personally as I was still able to work (being a school employee was tough this year but I'm making due), the political turmoil in the USA coupled with trying to stay virus free among anti-maskers was stressful. I think the first half of 2021 will be difficult but I think eventually there will be a light at the end of the tunnel. So Happy New Year and enjoy this dialogue free story.

Sherlock and John were late in getting their flu shots. In their defense, the fears of Covid had led to more people in general getting their flu vaccinations which led to a shortage. John had retired from the clinic before summer so since he was no longer a working doctor he wasn't eligible for the free shots his former employer provided for staff. With he and his husband busy with cases for the Yard and Mycroft, caring for Rosie, and life in general, the two had been jabbed a week before Christmas. Since the vaccine needs to be in the body for two weeks for it to be effective, the boys weren't surprised that they got sick.

*****

Today is New Year's Eve, and while many would like to celebrate the last day of one of the worst years in history, Covid has canceled large public parties. It's all for the best, as a nuisance of an ice storm has descended on London. 

The boys are safe inside 221B, snuggled together on the sofa under a large purple fleece blanket, enjoying hot toddies courtesy of Mrs. Hudson. On the TV is a yule log set to soft instrumental jazz music, as both Sherlock and John were dealing with achy, stuffy heads and neither wanted to deal with inane sitcoms or news stories repeating how awful 2020 was. 

Mycroft sent over a bottle of expensive champagne and get well wishes. It was chilling in the fridge and the two decided to save it for midnight. They figured it would go well with their flu medication and would send them into a deep sleep they hoped would help them feel better.

Rosie was at Molly's for the next few days. Tonight she was participating in an all girl's party with the pathologist and her sister Jenny, who was visiting for the holidays. Molly had sent the boys pictures of Rosie enjoying a manicure and pedicure, with the little girl proudly showing off nails and toes painted a glittery pink. Sherlock and John were happy she was having a good time, and being kept away from the flu germs. 

*****

It was close to midnight, and the detective and the doctor were still awake, just relaxing under the blanket and making small talk. The hot toddies had warmed their bellies and made them feel slightly better. John had retrieved some ice lollies from the freezer. These were special ones meant to relieve sore throats. Sherlock was grateful for the treat and softly kissed John as thanks. 

Ice pellets continued to rain down, gently rattling the windows. Tomorrow was going to be a slippery and slushy first day of 2021 and both John and Sherlock were grateful they did not have to leave the flat.

The TV yule log switched to a countdown and the boys counted down along while sucking their lollies. Once it hit 0 and the clock struck midnight, a fireworks display began to play to Kenny G's rendition of Auld Lang Syne. Sherlock and John shared another kiss, wished each other Happy New Year, and finished their lollies. Then Sherlock got the champagne out of the fridge and poured two small glasses. Before they sipped on the bubbly, they took their medicine. They raised their glasses and toasted to a better new year, for their flus to go away, and to an early retirement, as they decided 2021 would be the year they stopped chasing criminals and would enjoy a slower life together with Rosie, who would be turning five in a few weeks. 

The first hour of the new year had passed, Sherlock and John were feeling no pain thanks to their trio of medicated lollies, champagne, and flu medication, and decided to head to bed. The rest of the night was spent in a deep, soothing sleep together, as freezing rain coated the city in a diamond glaze. 


	9. Sherlock's Snowy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's Birthday! This is a very short and sweet chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock Holmes turns 167 today. In this story, he celebrates his 40th.

The original plans for Sherlock's 40th birthday was a celebratory dinner at Angelo's, with Mrs. Hudson, Greg, Mycroft, Molly, and Mike in attendance. Mother Nature, however, had her plans which included a big snowstorm that arrived late morning. Mid afternoon, it was snowing heavily and winds were gusting all over the city. John had informed everyone the dinner was off and would be rescheduled at another time. Angelo had decided to close his restaurant, but not before cooking up a big batch of spaghetti carbonara, breadsticks, and a small cannoli cake, which he had delivered to 221 B along with a bottle of Chardonnay. He also set them up with a reservation for a free Valentine's Day meal.

John set the kitchen table and placed a candle in the middle, dishing out the food while Sherlock took a nap. He opened the chilled wine bottle so it could breathe, and he went to Mrs. Hudson's and asked her if she'd like to join he and Sherlock for dinner since there was plenty of food. She agreed and said she would be down in a few.

******  
Sherlock awoke to John standing over him with a loving smile, and he smiled back. "Hi John."

John bent down to kiss him. "Hey birthday boy, have a good nap?"

"I did, and now I'm actually hungry. Is dinner ready?"

John nodded. "Everything is ready. I invited Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock stood up and stretched with a yawn. "Good." He kissed John on the cheek. "Guess I better get dressed," motioning to his dressing gown and silk pajamas.

"You look great. Besides, it's your birthday, wear what you want. I'm not dressed up," John cheerily replied, pointing to his jeans and plaid button down.

"I'll just fix my hair then," Sherlock said, heading for the bathroom.

"While you do that, I'll pour the wine," John added, going to the kitchen, humming happily.

******

Sherlock stood in front of the mirror, satisfied that his curls were back in their proper position. He looked intently at his locks. No sign of gray yet. But his face showed more laugh lines, more forehead crinkles, a reminder that he now was forty years old. He couldn't believe he made it this far. So many had told him outright he wouldn't live to see thirty. But he did, and now another ten years had passed, and he was happy. He had a loving husband, his relationship with his brother was more cordial even though Mycroft could still be a big prick at times, and even Anderson and Donovan were less hostile towards him. He was in a very good place, so good that he no longer minded celebrating his birthday. And he was secretly glad that his party at Angelo's got snowed out, because he was right where he wanted to be for his special day, with John, his conductor of light and love of his life, in their flat. His social skills had improved greatly, but he still wasn't a fan of get-togethers.

"Sherlock! Love, come here so we can start celebrating. Mrs. Hudson is here and already sipping some wine," John called happily from the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson could be heard giggling shortly after.

Sherlock took one last look at his reflection, smiled wide, and left to join his beloved spouse and his beloved landlady for what he knew was going to be an amazing dinner. Happy Birthday, indeed. 


	10. A Cold Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is called to help solve a crime during a bout of bad weather. John helps from home.

Sherlock got the text from Lestrade around ten-thirty that morning. _Body found near the pond at Regent's Park. Elderly man, appears to be in his 70's, no signs of outward trauma. Anderson thinks it's natural causes, but it looks a bit suspicious to me and I need your help._

Sherlock texted back he would be there in about twenty minutes. He looked down at John, who was still asleep. He'd suffered with a miserable sinus headache during the night and was finally able to get to sleep after two rounds of Sudafed and some saline nasal spray. Sherlock decided he could do the case alone and got out of bed, heading for the bathroom to get ready. 

By the time he was dressed and ready to go, John awoke. "Sherlock? Is there a case?" he sleepily asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes. There's an old man dead near the pond at Regent's Park. Lestrade suspects foul play."

John threw the covers back and started to move. "I can be ready in ten minutes."

Sherlock shook his head. "No, I want you to stay home and take it easy today. Besides, it's cold and snowing out."

John narrowed his eyes. "I'm much better now, and I can handle the cold."

Sensing an argument was about to erupt, Sherlock sat down next to John and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "John, I know how much you want to come and help me, but I can tell you're not at 100 percent. What if I call you from the crime scene and stream it on my phone. That way you can take a look for yourself and assist by video. What do you say?"

John relaxed and smiled sheepishly at his husband. "You're right, I'm not at 100 percent but I am better than I was last night. Yes, I'd love to assist you over the phone. I'm sorry."

Sherlock kissed him again. "I know you don't like feeling useless, but believe me, you staying here and taking care of yourself so you can be at your best when we get the next call for a case is extremely worthwhile to both me and the work." He got up and grinned at John. "I love you, and I'll call you as soon as I get to Regent's."

"Love you too. Be careful," John replied.

*****

"Can you get in a little closer to the body?" John asked Sherlock, who was kneeling down over the victim.

Sherlock held his phone up to the man's face. John studied the video intently for a moment and then he nodded quickly. "There are ruptured blood vessels in the eyes, face, and neck. This man was strangled to death. I don't know how Anderson missed that. Wait, never mind, I do."

Sherlock snorted, and Anderson, who heard John's voice coming through the phone, had a sour look on his face, but said nothing. Lestrade just stood there and wondered why Anderson still had a job and why wasn't there another forensic examiner who could come on crime scenes.

John continued. "As I'm sure you figured, the body has only been here several hours. Do we have an ID yet?"

Lestrade came to kneel down by Sherlock. "We found an ID card that lists a name of Thomas Thornton. We've already sent officers to the address to see if he lived with anyone." He shivered as an icy wind sliced through him. "Damn it's bloody cold out here and this snow is getting heavier." He looked up and over Sherlock's head. "John the officers I sent to Thornton's address are back. Hold on a tic."

A few minutes later Lestrade returned. "Thomas lived with his sister named Ramona. He was a widower, wife passed four years ago. The sister moved in to keep him company and help out with finances. He's been retired for ten years, used to be a maintenance man at St. Bart's. She can't think of anyone who'd might want him dead."

"Could be a random crime, someone saw him as an easy target for robbery," John theorized. "What do you think Sherlock?"

"The sister did say that Thomas used to come to Regent's Park several times a week at sunrise to take a walk, and he did it whether the weather was bad or not," Lestrade added.

"This doesn't seem like a personal attack," Sherlock deduced. "Your theory of him being a vulnerable mark for a robber is extremely plausible. The robber is probably a man, very young, in his twenties, fit, who probably jogs here frequently and perhaps stalked Mr. Thornton during his walks waiting for the right time to strike, and what better time than a snowy, frigid morning where the old man would be less mobile to try and defend himself." He stood up, brushed off his Belstaff, and turned to Lestrade. "We need to come back here when the weather is better to see if there are some other regulars who may have seen someone taking a suspicious interest in our victim."

"Sounds good Sherlock. We'll wrap it up here and have the body transported to the morgue for autopsy. Thanks for your help, and thanks John for remoting in. Hope you feel better."

"Thanks Greg. I'm happy that Sherlock let me help from home. I'm doing even better than earlier this morning," John said, with a wave.

"I'll pick up some Angelo's for lunch John. See you soon," Sherlock told his husband. "Love you."

"Love you too, and be careful, it's getting worse out there," John warned.

I will. Goodbye," Sherlock said before ending the call.

John put his phone on the coffee table and went to the kitchen to make some tea. He glanced out the window. The snow was coming down hard in big fluffy flakes. He turned on the radio just in time to hear a weather report. A winter storm warning was in effect for all of London with the storm poised to continue the rest of the afternoon and end by overnight. John decided to make a fire in the fireplace, and wait for his husband to return with their meal.

*****

The boys were snuggled up together in front of the fireplace, Angelo's delicious lunch of seafood fettucine alfredo and garlic bread nestled warmly in their stomachs. There was enough left over for a late dinner. John had brought the radio and big band music was playing. John laid his head on Sherlock's shoulder and Sherlock wrapped his arm around John. 

"I hope they catch Mr. Thornton's killer soon. He seemed like such a nice old man," John quietly mused.

"Don't worry, I'll keep up on the case and make sure of it," Sherlock replied.

"Maybe we can stake out Regent's once this storm is done. If you suspect it's a jogger, and if he's dedicated like most joggers are, he'll be back. Maybe even tomorrow," John said.

"We'll definitely return to do a stakeout. I don't trust the Yard to people watch like we do."

John couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, you're right." He looked at his spouse lovingly. "Want another cup of tea?"

"That sounds wonderful. You stay here and I'll make it. I promise, no random body parts will show up."

John laughed. I don't worry about that anymore. Your tea making skills have gotten so much better."

Sherlock smiled. "Why thank you John. I think so too."

John lovingly watched his ridiculous genius get up and walk to the kitchen. He couldn't think of a better person to spend snowed in with.


	11. A Wintry Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John takes a walk and has a good day.

It was one-thirty in the afternoon and so far it was a good day for John. Earlier, he made breakfast for himself, Sherlock, and Rosie, kissed both of his loves as Sherlock left for the St. Bart's morgue to assist Molly in examining two bodies that had come in earlier that morning, both suspected to be victims of foul play, but not before dropping their three-year old at her nursery. Even though John had quit the surgery to spend more time with Rosie, he and Sherlock agreed that once a week Rosie would spend a day at nursery to socialize with her peers. Rosie enjoyed it, and brought home art projects that John had made into a wall collage to proudly display. Sherlock had scaled back on cases, solving mostly from home while on Skype, but he and John did physically go to crime scenes if they were a nine or a ten.

John had spent the morning cleaning the breakfast dishes, writing up a blog post on the last big case he and Sherlock solved almost a month ago, washed and folded laundry, and helped Mrs. Hudson with grocery shopping while picking up a few things he needed for dinner tonight. When the two left, it had started lightly snowing. John had listened to the news and a big snowstorm was headed for London, with heavy snow expected to fall late afternoon and all evening, before ending tomorrow afternoon. 

John was in his chair playing Candy Crush, biding time before he had to pick up Rosie from the nursery at three-thirty. He looked out the window and saw the snow was starting to pick up a little, so he decided he'd pull Rosie out early before things got worse. He quit the game and called the nursery, telling one of the teachers, Michelle, that he'd like to pick up Rosie now due to the weather.

"That's fine Mr. Watson. Several other parents have done the same thing. We'll see you soon, and be careful," she said.

John hung up and started to bundle up, putting on his olive green parka with the faux fur hood, his black cashmere scarf Sherlock got him for his birthday nestled snugly against his neck, and his snow boots. He thought about getting a taxi but decided it would be easier (and less expensive) to walk, as the nursery was just a few blocks from the flat. And he didn't possess the seemingly supernatural ability that Sherlock apparently had in hailing a taxi. Once he was sufficiently dressed for snow, he was out the door.

*****

London was like a town covered in ice cold marshmallows. John couldn't get over how everything looked more peaceful and serene when covered in snow. There weren't many people on the streets walking so it was a lot less noisy. John had to stop for a moment and just take a deep breath, looking up at the gray sky with crisp white flakes falling down. No longer having to get up at the crack of dawn and brave those icy, frigid mornings when it did snow and John had to go to work, the white stuff was a lot more pretty and relaxing.

Soon John arrived at the nursery and he entered the warm building. Rosie's room was down the hall, the last room on the right. He opened the door that was decorated in blue construction paper, cutouts of penguins, snowflakes, and igloos happily taped onto the paper, and saw Michelle standing in the center of the room. "Hello," he greeted her warmly.

Michelle smiled. Rosie's in the loo. She'll be out shortly." She looked John up and down. "Did you walk here?"

John nodded. "I'm cheap and didn't want to pay for a taxi. That's Sherlock's beat. But it was a nice walk. I actually enjoyed seeing and feeling the snow.

Michelle laughed. "I understand."

Rosie appeared, and squealed when she saw John. "Daddy!" she cried happily, running towards him. "It's snowing whole lots!"

John laughed and scooped her up into a hug. "It sure is! Let's get your coat on and get home before it gets even worse."

Rosie was bundled up, and they said their goodbyes to Michelle, heading back out into the storm. "It's cold!" she said.

"I know. But when we get home, Daddy's going to fix some hot chocolate."

"With marshmalllows?" Rosie asked.

"Of course sweetie," John replied.

"Yay"! Rosie shouted. "Make some for Papa too."

"I will, if he gets home early enough."

Just then, a taxi pulled up right in front of John and Rosie. The back door opened, and Sherlock was inside. "Papa!" shouted Rosie and she ran right into Sherlock's lap.

"Hi honeybee," Sherlock said happily, pressing a kiss to her cheek. He smiled at his husband. "Get in John."

John went to the other side of the cab and got in next to Sherlock. "Hi love. How did you know I was here?"

"I came back to the flat and saw you weren't here, so I figured the only reason you'd be out in this weather would be to pick up our daughter early from nursery, and knowing you don't like to pay for taxis, chose to walk. So I called a taxi to come here because I didn't want you both walking back in this mess."

John leaned into kiss his spouse on the cheek. "Thank you. It pays having a genius for a husband."

"Daddy's going to make hot chocolate when we get home!" Rosie announced.

"He is? Well, it's a perfect day for it," Sherlock said, tickling the little girl who burst into giggles.

John couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. He wouldn't have minded walking home in the snow with Rosie, but he was very happy to be in a warm taxi with his two loved ones. And when they got home, winter gear was exchanged for pajamas, and it wasn't long before the three were Watson-Holmes were on the couch, cuddling under a blanket, sipping hot chocolate, watching a bee documentary while the snow continued to blanket the city.


End file.
